Loveless Lips
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: Lord Voldemort might have been a cold and cruel monster, but it did not mean he went through life without experiencing more than a few kisses. They were not all the same and somehow they managed to mimic the loss of his humanity.
1. Feeling Uncertain

Here we go! Now this is for two challenge- The Seven Kisses Challenge (self explanatory) and Round Four of the Speed of Lightning Competition (where I had to write 6,000 words in 3 days). Obviously this will mean the updates will be quick. Currently I have everything written as drafts I just need to edit.

As suggested, this story will feature seven kisses given or received by Tom/Voldemort. For some hints about what to come; six will be wanted and one will be forced, six could fit into canon and one is AU, four are on the lips and three are somewhere else and three are with OCs related to canon characters and four are canon characters. Please be aware that this is written from Tom's pov so there are views related to the time (40s, 50s, etc) and some hints at some misogynist views which are all related to how he would think and not how I would. As well, it does include some OCs, but that is because we only know a limited number of people from his time.

Also a lot of this is based on the idea that Tom/Voldemort may be a cruel and inhuman monster, but I strongly believe this does not mean he went through life as having never kissed anyone. While I can understand him being written as asexual, my Voldemort is a heterosexual man.

Enjoy

* * *

Tom had always known he was unique. He was always told that as baby he never cried. Then, as he grew, he was the queer boy who always seemed to want to want to be left alone. Of course, he soon developed to discover he had phenomenal gifts which he later learned made him a wizard.

The knowledge made it even clearer he was greater than any of the muggle orphans around him.

After he had been told he was a wizard, there was some original doubt and fear that it might mean he was like everyone else. Perhaps if he was just another wizard, he might be forced to blend into the background.

One week at Hogwarts was enough to prove that was not the case.

His magic was far beyond any of the other first years. The teachers were staggered that he had such a high level of natural skill and all assumed he must have been taught by someone. More than that, after he had been overhead speaking Parseltongue to by some of his fellow Slytherins, it was revealed how unique his gifts really were.

That was not all. The more he grew, the more he realised how special he was and how superior he was to everyone else.

It was very apparent as he strode down the dirt road to Hogsmeade, with his chin high, his eyes firm, but his lips curled up into a well crafted smile which made his handsome face even more attractive. He was not silly and, as he aged, the female admirers multiplied. He could cast one a smile and her cheeks would instantly flame red.

The other difference was he had brains. The boys he surrounded himself with were tolerable, but they were weak and their brains disappeared at the most inappropriate moments; often girls were the cause. He was attracted to a pretty girl as much as any of them, yet he did not lose his head. There was Nott who managed to blush and fumble whenever one was around. Lestrange would try to be composed, but he would always say the wrong thing. Rosier was the most affective, but he would always force his luck trying for a kiss or something more when it was completely inappropriate for a pureblood lady.

It was all a matter of knowing the right ways to behave at the right times.

Tilting his head to the side as he entered the snow covered and attractive village of Hogsmeade, he smiled to Lydia Gamp who had her gloved arm wrapped around the arm he had offered her back at the castle. "It is very beautiful," he said softly in conversation as his eyes flicked over the building and bustling crowds. "Quite a lovely sight."

"It is," she murmured in agreement, though he noticed her eyes focused more on his face than on the village. "My parents never wanted to take my sister and I all the way up here."

"It is a long way," he agreed as he led her through the streets, his mind flittering over buildings as he decided where to go without any input from the woman on his arm. "I have never been here before either."

"But now we finally have the chance."

"With company who is lovelier than I could ever have predicted," he complimented with a smile and with clear knowledge about the impact of his actions.

He was correct. Her pale face flushed at his words as her other gloved hand held her face lightly. "Tom," she moaned quietly having no other answer.

It was so simple. It was just a matter of choosing your times, your words, your behaviour and only determining your choice by what was intelligent. In that exchange, he could have informed her that he had lived in a muggle orphanage all his life, so had no chance of visiting all wizarding village or that the reason he found the village so lovely was because it was a relief to be outside in a place away from London and the threat of Nazi bombs.

But there was no reason to say any of these things, so he lied and silently led her away from the High Street. He had other thoughts on his mind.

"I thought about seeing the outskirts of the village first and then making our way back," he continued in a way which she would no doubt assume was him saving her from her mirth. "Only if you would like to, of course."

"I would love to," she replied as she tried to pull back her composure. He knew she would agree. It was the only reason he had asked.

The path from the main village led them off the High Street where it stopped and so did all of the houses and shops only giving way to the lush countryside and mountains. At the end of the street, he stepped off it and walked so they were behind the houses and blocked from the view of everyone else.

"I hope you know Lydia that I am very happy I could be here with you," Tom said gently looking directly into her eyes as he slid his arm out from hers and gently cupped her delicate gloved hand. "There is no one else I would rather be with."

Predictably, she flushed again. "I feel the same way," she gushed, her emerald eyes alive and shining.

For the briefest moment Tom paused confronted by the gap between them that was larger than he had predicted in his plans. It seemed awfully difficult to close that space. He had heard tales of stolen kisses and most certainly his attraction to woman was such that he was thinking about kissing and more, but to make that final step was difficult.

Still he steeled himself.

With his spare hand, he lifted it to her face and carefully brushed a lock of her chestnut hair from her eyes. He felt her shudder pleasantly and it was all the chance he needed before he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Tom loathed being ignorant and he was unsure what to do as he was faced with only instinct to guide him as he tentatively moved his lips against her own.

It was only for a short moment before he controlled himself and withdrew his lips, his heart race pulsing at an unusual pace.

He allowed himself a genuine smile to pass over his lips.

It was not directed at her, only the feeling. Any woman would have worked, but she did not need to know that. He was only concerned with how he could next get what he wanted.


	2. Slipping Up

So here we go chapter two. This is a little different from the last and I think keeping in mind that this is the 40s is useful. Also, I suggest reading through this chapter before assuming what will happen. As I said, I strive to keep Tom in character and I think he still is by the time the chapter ends.

* * *

Despite his status as a wizard, Tom was not yet free from the tentacles of the cursed muggle orphanage. Every summer he still had to confront the murky black and white tiled halls, the gruel for food and the filth he had to share the space with.

At least, in the summer of 1942, he felt he had a purpose. Finally using the name of his grandfather, he had been able to track down the Gaunt descendants and a link to his family. He intended to remain at the orphanage for a few nights until he was prepared and then he could sneak out to Little Hangleton and return before anyone noticed.

However, he still had to wait and plan before he could do that.

Pouring over one of his textbooks, rather than actual interacting by the muggles he was surrounded by, he leaned back in his chair allowing himself the luxury of relaxing his posture now that there was no one to witness him. It was all a matter of that. It was all a matter of producing the right front for the situation and that was always something he was proud to do and something he was always skilled at.

Facing the call of mother nature, he rose from his chair and carefully placed it under his desk so he did not make a mess of his meticulously clean room. Stepping out of his room, he closed the door behind him and moved along the dreary muggle corridor like he had a thousand times before. He passed by some of the other orphans, but most kept their heads down and avoided him.

They had all learned to respect him.

Most anyway.

"Tom!" he heard a familiar voice call as he was just about to turn a corridor. "Tom wait!"

He felt himself flinch at the sound of the high pitched voice and turned to find fellow orphan Gloria Stewart. Seventeen and older than him by two years, she was dressed in the same grey tunic like the rest of the orphans but she filled it out better than any of the other girls and, her hair that should have been up, was hanging loosely around her shoulder in chocolate waves.

"Good morning, Gloria," he said with little warmth as he focused his eyes on the muggle. It was what he was reminding himself of; she was a muggle. It did not matter that she was an attractive woman. She was a muggle and unworthy of any consideration. "What do you want?"

"I wa- I want to show you something," she said with the slightest amount of hesitation as she smiled a little. "Follow me."

She turned and moved into one of the rooms on the side of the corridor without a second glance at him as if she expected him to follow. He was tempted to ignore her request, but simple curiosity spurned him on. Assuming it would only take a moment, he followed her into the doorway, but did not advance any further into the room.

"What do you want?" he said impatiently as he leaned in the frame of the door, his eyes skating over the room that was identical to his own except for some small individual touches and the messy elements that dotted the area. There were certainly no photographs in his room. She was sitting on the simple brass bed looking up at him.

"Come closer, Tom." She smiled again and gestured to the spot beside her.

He did not twitch an inch. "No," he said simply in voice that commanded respect. He had done enough following her to the room. That is all he would do. "Now, what do you want?"

Tom watched coldly as she looked a little disappointed and floundered before she managed to recover herself. Standing, he watched her approach, her hips swaying slightly in a manner he was sure none of the respectable pureblood ladies at Hogwarts had ever done.

He did not move as she stopped only an inch from him. With his height he was significantly taller than her giving him a pleasant view down her tunic which he could not help but take advantage of. She was a muggle, but a pretty muggle.

She was also close. Too close. So close, that despite her filthy status as a muggle, he was finding it harder to remember how unworthy she was.

"What do you want?" he repeated, taking a step back from her to restore decorum and regain the correct mentality.

She stopped him. Reaching forward, she wrapped her arms around him, drew him close and pressed her lips to his.

He was struck dumb for a moment.

Now fifteen he had kissed more than a few girls. They had only ever been proper young pureblood ladies who were worthy of him, so nothing ever went beyond a few appropriate hidden kisses that never went passed over the line of respectability. Those girls had all been taught to respect their bodies and they never would have given away what he wanted. He had wanted them. He had wanted to sneak under their robes and take them to bed. He had just realised it was impossible. He would either need to invest considerable time with a girl or lower himself to a girl who was not so proper.

He would not compromise on either fact.

Gloria was different. Like him she was raised in an orphanage and was only a Working Class girl. He knew she was besotted with him and the way she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled herself flush against him made him very aware he could have stolen more than a few kisses from her.

He was kissing her back. The urges shooting through him did not distinguish her as a muggle, but only a beautiful woman. His mouth against her own felt like the mouth of any witch; this time only more inviting and more willing. Her hand that crept down to the laces on his trousers was the same shape and had the same level softness as someone with magical blood, but it was the first willing to travel there. One part of him leaned into her hand but another, the one that he had always sworn to live by, roared at him to cease.

As always, he listened.

Suddenly he pushed her off him with enough force to throw her to the ground, his heart racing and body thumping. "Slut!" he snarled glaring down at her while he tried to recover his composure and the other parts of his anatomy. "Don't you ever _think _about touching me ever again."

Growling and fuming, he turned on his heel and left slamming the door brutally behind him.

_She was only a muggle. She was not worthy of me. She was not a muggle. She was not worthy of me. _Over and over again he repeated his mantra his mind. His fury completely directed at her and not himself.

It was one moment he had slipped up.

Only a few days later he discovered the identity of his father and killed him.

With his hatred of muggles more entrenched he never slipped up again.


	3. Manipulative Forces

Now onto chapter three. There will be a little more explanation about the events in this chapter in an author's note at the end.

* * *

The rain was bucketing brutally down onto their heads as Voldemort ran through the rain to his doorstep not even bothering to stop and cast an Imperturbable Charm in case the pause would cause them to become even wetter.

Wrenching open the door open, he darted inside pulling the attractive blonde woman with him.

"That came on quicker than I would have thought," he said, his voice a little breathless as he turned to the woman beside him. The perfect updo she had arranged her platinum blonde hair into was laying flat and oddly squashed from the rain, her pointed face had rivers of water still catering down her well crafted cheekbones and her fine lace dress was soaked leaving it sticking tightly to the curves he had only ever seen hint of in the past.

"It did," she agreed softly only half interested as her hands swept frantically to her messy hair and her wet dress.

"Now come upstairs you must be freezing," he suggested, squeezing her hand as he nodded up the dingy staircase. After months of work, he had finally made her agree to accompany him back to his flat, but the water seemed to have sapped her resolve. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently on the cheek. Obviously he would need a reason that seemed proper. "Just to freshen up. I cannot have you going home like that. You could catch a cold."

"Of course."

Like he knew it would be, it seemed to be enough to convince her as he led her to his flat upstairs. Turning the simple brass key, he stepped inside and lit the lanterns on the wall revealing the room; it was small and slightly dark and dingy with an old assortment of furniture and only a small combined sitting room and kitchen with two doors leading to a bathroom and bedroom. He was deserving of more, but his small salary at Borgin and Burkes only presented him with limited means. Still it was better than being in that filthy orphanage. At the very least, this place was meticulously clean and he tried to improve everything he could with transfiguration and charms. Besides, it would only be for a while. Greatness and more appropriate accommodation would, in time, be his when the world knew him as Lord Voldemort.

"It is hardly appropriate for a Malfoy," he said in reference to room, "but I hope you will forgive me."

"Don't be like that Tom," she scolded, slightly in better spirits now she was in a place where she could be comfortable. He noticed her eyes flicked briefly to the room before her grey eyes focused on him. No matter what she said, he knew the lack of luxury would be a problem with her as it was for the entirety of the Upper Class. The trick was to distract her from the room. "I know where you work. I met you at Borgin and Burkes, remember? I know you do not have much now, but I know you Tom. I know you will be destined for greatness."

She was right. They had met at Borgin and Burkes. She had entered with her brother Abraxas Malfoy who was five years older than Voldemort. Borgin had rushed to serve him and Voldemort had been left to entertain his very pretty twenty one year old sister who he had only occasionally conversed with at Hogwarts.

The age had not mattered.

Noticing her good looks and impeccable family name, he had been charming and polite so, when her brother called for her to leave, she was more than a little reluctant. A few days later, she had returned. Then it was simpler and he had courted her with several dinners, dozens of false words in letters and several stolen kisses until he was at this point.

Her words had triggered something in him. Turning from the flat to face her, his hands cupped her jaw as he kissed her with breathtaking passion.

Greatness was what he sought and greatness would be what he achieved. He was not destined for poor muggles, but rich and pureblood women.

He could feel how wet she still was as his hands slid from her face down the side of her body. She shuddered. He suspected it was not from the cold as he pinned her against the door.

"Tom," she moaned softly against his lips as he trailed his mouth down to her elegant neck. He ignored the use of the hated name as he peppered her throat with kisses.

"Anesia," he murmured in between kisses, repeating her name for her sake as he slid his hands to cup her breasts that he had been eyeing for months, but had controlled himself to have avoided them in the past. "My beautiful, beautiful, Anesia."

Either his compliments or his actions were convincing as she did not complain. She only spoke as his hands slid lower.

"Tom," she protested softly as he halted, his hand resting on her lower stomach. "I'm not that type of woman."

"I know," he agreed, moving his lips to tenderly kiss her again. "You are one of the most beautiful, intelligent, graceful and proper young ladies I have ever encountered. You could never be faulted, but that is why I want this. Because you are special and amazing and I want this to mean something."

Her grey eyes were wide and bright as he held her close. Tom assumed he had said all the right things and she would not refuse, yet there was still an aspect of doubt as he waited for an answer. When it came it was not verbal.

Seizing the back of his head, she slammed her lips against his in a rush of emotion and passion. Pulling back, he slid his hand into her uncovered hand as he led her into his bedroom. He did not give her any chance to examine the basic room before his lips were on her again.

Others were so easy; murmur some false words of affection and predictably they always gave him.

His lips did not break from hers as he pushed her back onto the bed, attempting to hide his uncertainty about an act he wanted, but had not done before.

The entire time he tried not to moan or smile with the combination of triumph and desire.

* * *

**A/N:** So there we have it. I specifically chose a time after Hogwarts for Voldemort's first. It is the 1940s and combined with this his desire to produce the right image at school, I decided a time after was required. Anesia Malfoy is an OC and as stated she is the sister of Abraxas (making her Lucius' aunt) something that could be quite possible. Tom of course goes on to break her heart and Abraxas Malfoy goes on to never join the Death Eaters (in my head canon at least).

As a point of irony, the name Anesia was chosen as it means chaste and pure.


	4. The Means to an End

This chapter is fairly self explanatory. A lot of the description is taken from the chapter Lord Voldemort's request in Half Blood Prince.

* * *

Despite his abilities, Voldemort had graduated from Hogwarts like any other student and had been faced with life in the real world. However, unlike his classmates, his goals went far above a simple job or starting a family, but were focused on creating the proper world, gaining the power he deserved and reaching for true immortality.

No job would truly achieve that, but some could be of assistance. His preference was to teach at Hogwarts, though, when that was denied to him, work at Borgin and Burkes was his next option.

Life at the shop was not what Voldemort would have expected and he rarely saw the benefits from a petty position: There were flashes of powerful antique objects and influential customers, though often it seemed to pass by in a flurry of useless events and the frustrating orders he was forced to follow.

It was only in June 1947 that he had the opportunity he desired when he was told by Borgin to visit a woman by the name of Hepzibah Smith. It was another task to instruct another woman to part with an expensive possession that Borgin wanted. Still, he would not complain. He had taken this job for a reason; to find powerful objects for his horcruxes and he would not stop until he found what he sought.

Apparating to the grounds of the correct property, he reached the impressive manor house and pressed the doorbell. It was soon answered by the smallest house elf he had ever seen who did not even reach his knees. Undoubtedly old, its papery skin was draped over it like a toga.

"I am here to see Ms Hepzibah Smith," he declared with his usual self importance.

"Of course, Sir. Mistress has been waiting for you. Please follow Hokey." With a bow, the elf set off down one of the corridors and Voldemort followed without fuss as his eyes swept over the area. He immediately understood why Borgin had wanted him to see Smith. The area was full to bursting with antique portraits, statues, vases and other objects to the extent that there was barely enough room to move.

Pausing at a doorway that seemed particularly cluttered with objects, he was led into the room by the house elf. He was momentarily stunned (quite a feat indeed) as his eyes ran over the objects; cabinets of lacquered boxes, cases of gold leafed and valuable books and shelves of orbs and flowering untrimmed pot plants.

Mesmerised by the thought of what else could be in the room, it took him a moment to pull himself together and face the woman. She was old and fat. Dressed in ludicrous pink robes that flowed over her like frosting, she wore a ridiculous ginger wig that was more like a tower with golden trinkets attached as she lay hunched in her chair as if she had not moved for days.

With years of practice, he did not reveal his disgust. Standing at the start of the clutter in a crisp set of black suit robes, he bowed his handsome head and allowed a smile to grace his aristocratic features.

"I must apologise, Ms Smith, I was momentarily mesmerised by your fine collection," he said softly and politely as he reclined his head to her. "Mr Borgin asked me to visit you to inquire about the set of antique emerald necklaces he discussed with you via owl."

If he was struck dumb by the objects, than she was doubly so by his face. Watching, Voldemort could see how she could not tear her watery eyes from his face and he could see how her cheeks, which were already coated by makeup, flushed pink. It would make things substantially easier.

"Oh, ye- yes of course," she said with a little bit of a stutter and a slightly breathless voice. "Please do come in."

"Thank you," he said quietly as he drew further into the room. The objects were all around and, if he was not so careful and so full of grace, he suspected he would have knocked over some of the shelves. "My name is Tom Riddle. It is quite an honour to meet your acquaintance, Ms Smith."

Reaching her side, he paused, his eyes trailing over her form. She was quite hideous, but he was pulled in by the room and possibilities. His job only meant so much. It was only a means to an end and this might finally be the end.

Smith let a small giggle which would have been unappealing in a woman his age let alone hers. "Tom," she said as if testing the word. "May I call you Tom?"

Despite the loathing of the name, he did not miss a trick as a series of intricate plans formed in his mind. "For a woman as lovely as you? Anything."

Bowing down before her, his long fingers hand slid over her portly and wrinkled hand. Bringing down his lips, he pressed them softly against her skin in a small kiss before he straightened up. The entire time he dark eyes never left her face.

She was hooked.

That day he acquired Borgin the emerald necklace he wanted and even more in the subsequent visits, but it was only when she revealed a golden cup and a golden locket with a serpentine S that the true prize was revealed. After some poison in her tea and some charms on the useless elf, he had what he desired.

It was all worth it.


	5. Sweet Subservience

And they chapters keep coming. Despite sharing the same name, this Theodore Nott is the boy who attended school with Riddle and is the father of the Theodore Nott in Harry's year who, according to my head canon, is really Theodore Nott Jr.

* * *

It was a strange experience for Voldemort as he strode like a king up the path bordered by thick hedges. He had not been in this location for so long. It had been ten years since he had been in England. He had left the nation to travel through war torn Europe on a quest for knowledge and immortality that others could only dream to undertake.

Of course, he had succeeded and now here he stood; his once dark blue eyes were strangely bloodshot and his face was waxy and white as snow. There were few traces of Tom Riddle left in his appearance unless you focused for a long time on the distorted features and knew him from before. It was just as he desired.

As was customary, an elf soon arrived to escort him in, though he refused to be directed into the sitting room, instead he merely remained in the entrance hall. He stood tall and straight near the stairwell, his now bloodied eyes focused up the stairs. It was not long before he found his target.

Despite the ten year gap since he had last seen him, it was easy to identify the other man. He knew it would not be the case for himself.

"Who are you?"The other man snarled as he strode down the stairs, his wand noticeably clasped in his hand. Voldemort did not even bother reaching for his own weapon. If he needed it, he knew he could draw it swiftly. "Get out of my house!"

"Come now, Theodore. That is not the way to treat an old friend," Voldemort replied calmly. He did not even twitch a little despite the irate behaviour of the other man. Opening his arms, the smallest smirk curled its way around his features. "I know it has been a while, but do you really not recognise me?"

"I assure you, I would remember if I had met someone with your...appearance-" Theodore stated with only the slightest amount of discretion.

It did not bother Voldemort in the slightest. He preferred this new appearance. Just like he desired, there was no trace of that foul fool who had been responsible for his birth. He was well aware others would not recognise him.

"No, perhaps you may not recognise me. My new appearance is...different. Though, look closely," Voldemort replied calmly. He was not at all disturbed by the situation. "Ten years has been a long time, but you always knew I had plans. I have gone far above what other wizards have done. My looks mean nothing."

He could see the cogs turning in Theodore's mind. His head tilted a little and his grey eyes focused on the blurred features like Voldemort's high cheekbones and pointed jaw which were the same as when he left. It was only when Voldemort could see Theodore open his mouth and hesitate to answer that Voldemort knew he had won.

"Lord Voldemort?"

The slight smirk transformed into a full grin.

"Yes, Theodore. I have returned."

Theodore Nott had been one of the few at Hogwarts to have been gifted with the knowledge of the name Lord Voldemort. He had first met Nott when they were both only first years sharing a Slytherin Dormitory. Wisely the then Tom Riddle had known it was intelligent to befriend members of wizarding families and to hide his muggle upbringing.

He had never known if Theodore even discovered the truth. He preferred not to know. All he cared about was that he had secured Theodore's loyalty.

Now, he was after a different level of loyalty than what he required when he was a boy.

Theodore floundered about what to do, instead he stood frozen as his eyes swept over Voldemort's face. "I- my Lord, we have all waited so long for your return. All of us."

Voldemort allowed himself the privilege of allowing a genuine smile to cross his distorted features. "And now I have returned. I have returned to lead you all as you desired. Together we can bring this country to its knees and reshape it like it should be."

"Then I shall kneel before you first." Obediently, Theodore fell to his knees and Voldemort was a little surprised at the action. It was like a king with his subjects- very fitting indeed. "You had my loyalty as a boy. You still have it now."

"You shall be rewarded Theodore. You shall be rise to a position of greatness and leadership as all purebloods, especially my followers, deserve."

"Thank you, my Lord." Theodore paused for a moment on his knees before Voldemort. He seemed unsure what to do. His eyes flicked to Voldemort before it flicked to his robes. Bowing, without any prompting, he leaned forward and subserviently kissed the hem of his robes.

Voldemort's smile widened.

It was such an act of subservience. It was something he had never considered, but now he swore he would not rest until everyone had stopped to kiss the hem of his robes.

He never did.


	6. How Things Should Be

For anyone who has read my fics before, this chapter will not come as any surprise, but I think it is useful almost as a combination of all the previous kisses. As well, there are some elements of misogyny and a very minor hint of past non con which is very easy to miss.

* * *

For the past sixteen years since he had visited Theodore Nott, Voldemort had expanded his force of Death Eaters. He had visited and acquired the loyalty of his old school acquaintances like Rufus Lestrange, their relations like Rodolphus Lestrange, those he had met through his travels like Antonin Dolohov, and an assortment of others who had been drawn by his increasing influence and prominence.

It was just how things should be.

Standing in a dark misty clearing in the North of England, Voldemort stood in front of the ranks of his followers. They now completely filled the clearing and all listened with rapt attention, all unwilling to even considering wronging him.

His lips curled into a smile as he nodded curtly at the mass of black hoods and silver masks. "That is all. You are dismissed."

Swiftly they obeyed. The sound of cracks of apparition and shuffling robes filled the air as the Death Eaters took their leave obediently.

Only one remained.

Though it was difficult for someone to identify with her thick black robe and hood, the solitary woman remained in the clearing. His eyes flicked over the lingering figure of Bellatrix Black, but the twist upwards in his lips was one of amusement rather than irritation.

Her level of worship was entertaining as well as useful.

At the age of nineteen her uncle had brought her before him and he had immediately noticed her potential. From the outset her loyalty to the cause was undisputed and she had a high level of natural ability that he sought to tap into. He normally would have preferred not to have given a woman the mark as he generally assumed no woman would be worthy of such a position, but Bellatrix had proven herself an exception so she was allowed to join the ranks.

"What are you doing, Bella?" he inquired stepping towards her in the empty clearing.

He watched her face flush. "Sorry, my Lord," she murmured in embarrassment as she turned to leave. Before she could move, he touched the point of her shoulder causing her to freeze.

"You did not answer my question," he whispered softly into her ear as she squirmed under his close proximity. He knew how she felt. He knew everything. This was even more apparent. He had been teaching her the Dark Arts for almost a year now and, from her longing glances and flushed cheeks, her obsession was obviously more sexual in nature "Answer me."

"I ju- I only find it difficult to leave your presence my Lord," she stuttered slightly as she tried to control herself. "I apologise for any offence I have caused."

He chuckled lightly and drew even closer so there was only the barest flicker of fresh air between them. "Why do you assume you have caused offence?"

Bellatrix was shuddering and, looking over her shoulder, he could see her eyelids fluttering as she tried to control herself. "I do- I don't know, my Lord."

"Turn around and face me."

Hesitatingly she did what was required. Staring up at him, her eyes were wide with nervous energy. He relished in her behaviour. She was completely under his control. More so than any other Death Eater, she would do anything he asked. If he ordered her to do anything, even kill herself, he suspected she might.

The power that it generated surged through his veins. It was more appealing than anything else he had ever encountered. Even if she was a beauty, her looks meant nothing compared to the attraction towards the level of sheer control he had over the woman in front of him.

She must have seen the gleam of hunger in his eyes as her tone was uncertain. "My Lord?"

He did not even bothering to answer.

Grabbing her by her jaw in a painful grip, he slammed his lips against hers. It was brutal and dominating. It was how things should be; all about what he wanted, but that was never how things had been in the past. He always had to be charming to get what he desired or to cast an Imperius Curse.

That was not the case now. It was only about what he wished.

Now he no longer had to pretend.

He pinned her to the forest ground as she willing opened her mouth to him and matched his movements. She did not even try to touch him without his express permission. It only made the situation more arousing and satisfying as he ripped her robes off and held her hands about her head. The entire time he did not lift his lips from hers.

She knew she was unworthy, she knew he was greater and she knew she should obey him at all costs.

It was just how things should be.


	7. Something Real

Remember when I said one chapter would feature an AU kiss? This is it.

* * *

Tom's eyes were wide as he pushed the trolley carrying his second hand trunk through the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten. He had always been told he would have his chance to enter the platform and today was finally that day. Despite that, he stayed mostly composed as the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Turning his head behind him, he stepped out of the way to avoid the woman who followed.

"It's different than what I expected," said the lank and dull faced woman who looked more worn than what you would expect from someone who was only thirty.

"I'm waiting for what the actual castle will look like," he declared with an unusual level of confidence for a boy who was only eleven. "I still think it is a shame that you were never able to attend Hogwarts."

Tom knew the truth. He knew she had not had the best childhood and had been unable to attend the Wizarding School, though he was not privy to more details about why.

She only nodded. Not expecting an answer, he was distracted by the hundreds of children around him. As they reached the train, his eyes flicked over them wondering who could be worthy companions.

He noticed the goodbyes being exchanged between children and parents as he turned back to his own mother. He had spent all his life in the presence of his mother. She had raised him by herself without his father or any other kind of assistance. He had never left her side for long and now it would be strange to be away from her for months. Still, he would not reveal how much that would impact him to anyone, not even her.

"It is time, mother," he said as he flicked his eyes to the clock. "I had better get on the train."

Tom would have just preferred to turn and leave her. That way he could avoid any awkward and depressing goodbyes.

"It is," Merope agreed, her voice soft and awkward in the large crowd that surrounded them.

He nodded crisply. "Then goodbye mother." Smiling a little he swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to leave.

A gentle and uncertain hand settled over his shoulder. "Tom," Merope murmured softly as he twisted to face her, trying to keep himself composed. "I'll miss you."

Casting a cautious glance around her to make sure no one was listening, he lowered his voice. "I will miss you too," he admitted despite himself.

Before Merope could help herself, Tom watched she leaned over and pressed her lips gently against his cheek. "I love you Tom. Stay safe."

Rather than be compelled to respond in the same way by the flush of joy and affection that her words produced, he answered softly, "Goodbye mother."

Turning around, he lugged his heavy trunk behind him as he stepped onto the scarlet steam engine. Finding a seat, he settled himself into a compartment waiting for the train to leave. Before it had even moved, he was wondering when he could next speak to his mother and kiss her gently on the cheek in greeting.

* * *

**A/N: **There we go! Obviously the above was a world where Merope never died in childbirth and raised her son. I thought it was the best way to end to contrast the previous kisses and reactions to what his life could have been like and how this would have changed his personality since he would have learned to love.

It also means this fic is now complete!


End file.
